


Across A Mental Scape

by Teacake (CowrooNagaysa)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, i have to write fanfiction for the rare pair i'm sorry, i'm in shance hell, self indulgent shit, very slight traces of angst but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:07:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7699396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowrooNagaysa/pseuds/Teacake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU with a dash of cyberpunk. Lance is put into the military reserve and needs something to do, his uncle knowing Lance's interest in the military, offers him a job at his museum on military history. Plagued with dreams about his soulmate for the past two years, Lance doesn't anticipate meeting his soulmate at his new job. Nor does he expect to get along with him as well as he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across A Mental Scape

Soulmates were an abstract concept to Lance, something that he knew very well existed, yet seemed nearly unattainable. Everyone retained a soulmate, this he was well aware of, and in having one, there were Dreams. Connections to one’s soulmate, images of one’s soulmate. Except, Lance hadn’t been able to make much sense of his dreams, or the face that rested within them. It seemed such an odd thing to contemplate, though he awoke with a sense of emptiness. The dreams had become more frequent, as of late, yet still all the more unintelligible. It would have helped if Lance heard a voice, saw a brief clarity of his soulmate’s face, but alas, the dreams yielded nothing, only a silhouette. Whoever his soulmate was, they most certainly held a physique that was muscular in inclination. Though such ruminations were tired, eyes half mast as he peered at the ceiling before him, the same sense of unfulfillment resting itself within his stomach. In truth, Lance had been holding the same Dreams for the past few years. They were frustrating, unattainable. He’d sought other women to distract himself from the infuriating realization that each dream that transpired, no matter how gratuitous, still yielded nothing to him.

 

This was stupid to think about so early in the morning, especially when he started work today.

 

It hadn’t been his intention to work within a military museum. Or, something like it. His uncle was the one that owned the entire building. It didn’t look like a museum, or, what one might have been accustomed to seeing, with great, marble pillars and grand steps and perhaps even lions somewhere upon the premise or in intricate carving. It matched the motif of most cities, neon with black and multiple stories. Though it was still a museum, and still popular. Lance hadn’t held much of a mind for history and really only retained the job at current because he’d needed something to do. He’d studied to be a pilot for the military and though he’d passed the exams, he had been placed within the reserves, not to be summoned for combat, which was really quite redundant, he thought, though the war against intergalactic forces was in mankind’s favor. Lance had signed up for the military at a great turning point in the war where what forces were held at current sufficed.

 

It was disheartening, really, for he’d always want ed to become a military pilot in space, combating the baddies, so to speak. His uncle had owned a military museum, however, and had thought recruiting Lance for the job might so ease his pain of not serving at current. It didn’t, for he felt that it would only suffice as a reminder for what he  _ could  _ have been doing, but was not. Regardless, he’d agreed anyways, for he’d needed a job, something to keep him busy. 

 

With a graceless shove, he moved the blankets from himself, yawning as he rose from his bed.

* * *

His position was a bit more favorable due to his connection with his uncle. His work was simple, work as a personal assistant, organize a few files, and make sure that the museum was running smoothly. He thought himself vaguely fortunate to not have to work from the bottom, for the museum was popular enough. Lance knew not if it was because of the government’s propaganda, or if it was due to the fact that it looked oddly stylish for a place of history. It was not illuminated during the day, however, though the colored windows reflected the sunlight beautifully, its appeal not diminishing, even in daylight. It was a multiple story affair, floors dedicated to certain aspects of its history, whether it be aircrafts, weapons, or even certain wars.

 

Lance recollected certain aspects of it from the last time he’d visited a few years ago, yet the affair had expanded during the time he’d spent abroad studying for the military. A sigh escaped him, pushing out further thoughts about the military, though with little success as he pushed open the doors, what was within the building only opening his wound even further.

 

After the security point, he found his uncle waiting for him.

 

“Ah! Lance!  _ E _ _ stás aquí! _ And on time!” His uncle remembered himself, switching back to English with an embarrassed smile.

 

“ _ Sí sí sí _ , so, what am I starting with first?” Lance peered around the premise, polished floor glimmering and certain ships and uniforms on display upon the main floor. Within the middle of it rested a great fountain, an odd mix of both glass and marble, depicting war scenes as water fired from the guns of the carefully carved soldiers. His breath caught within his throat. No wonder the museum was popular, it was indeed lovely. Oceanic irises flicked to peer at his uncle once more.

 

“Today? Not much. Not yet. I want to introduce you to a few people, have you reacquaint yourself with the exhibits before I plunge you into work. I do have a gift for you though.”

 

“A gift?” Lance’s face lit up eagerly then, never one to turn away any form of present. When he held out his arms, however, he was not prepared for the heavy book that was dropped upon them. A surprised squawk escaped him gracelessly, quickly snatching up the book. His eyes swept over its cover. It was a history book that encompassed everything the museum covered. It looked as if it’d been pilfered from the giftshop. Nervously, he leafed through the book’s contents. It was indeed thick and most distressing to gaze upon for extended periods of time. He still shot a smile towards his relative, albeit twitching within mild displeasure. “You wouldn’t happen to have notes on this, would you? This is… a lot to read…”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh come on! I’ll lose sleep trying to read this all!”

 

“You can skim it.”

 

“This thing is thicker than some textbooks I got in school!”

 

“ _ Tu problema, mi hijito, _ you wanted to work here.”

 

“My problem?!” Lance spluttered indignantly, though kept his grip upon the book, huffing in mild irritation. “So, show me around.”

 

His uncle beamed and motioned for him to follow, leading him to an elevator and pressing a button that led to a lower level where the offices were. They approached a door, the thing opening after his uncle typed in a passcode. Lance shifted his book within his arms meanwhile, sighing at its weight and girth. He was fairly certain that if he bludgeoned a man with the thing, they’d probably collapse and possibly wind up in a coma.

 

Disturbed from his reverie, he followed his uncle into the office, where it was relatively silent and no less stylish than the rest of the building. However, they were hardly paid any mind save for a few waves, smiles, and nods of acknowledgement, more focused upon their holographic screens. However, his uncle cleared his throat and clasped his shoulder affectionately.

 

“This is  _ mi sobrino _ , Lance, he’ll be working as an assistant of mine of sorts. Don’t give him too much of a hard time!”

 

Lance shifted the book to one arm, giving a wave and what he hoped was a dazzling smile, the smile itself directed to a few of the more attractive, female workers he’d spotted. A certain woman with pale locks and clear, blue eyes had caught his attention, though when he winked at her, she rolled her eyes. Tough crowd.

 

After the introduction, the office resumed its usual, quiet hum of activity. Lance turned to his uncle and was about to ask when he would be permitted to roam, though was cut short by another man’s approach. He huffed in irritation, for he really hadn’t felt as if he was doing anything useful, though when he turned to face the stranger, something within his chest clenched

 

He was positively enchanting, even with the scar across the bridge of his nose, even with brows knitted in slight focus as he spoke to his uncle, lips moving rapidly with questions that Lance wasn’t hearing. His oculars, reminiscent of gunmetal, shifted to peer at Lance and for the fraction of a second, they widened. 

 

His uncle seemed not to notice the sudden tension between his two employees. “Shiro, this is Lance, Lance this is Shiro. Shiro handles the archives here and also travels from time to time to seal deals and collect artifacts for the museum when I can’t. He’s very reliable.”

 

Lance nodded, nervously sticking out a hand with an equally nervous smile. Shiro took his hand with a soft laugh, perhaps an attempt at hiding his own embarrassment, perhaps. Lance’s head was throbbing, imploring that he remember the morning earlier. His dreams, his dreams. His mind snapped then, suddenly. Shiro, his soulmate? Meeting his soulmate here of all places? Lance almost wanted to laugh. It was so cliched that he simply could not conceive it, yet something felt right about Shiro, as things had never felt before around anyone else.

 

“Lance,” his uncle removed him from his thoughts. “You can look around the museum now, but your real work starts tomorrow.”

 

“I can show him around,” said Shiro suddenly. “I’ve just about finished my own work and was about to go on break. The museum can be pretty big, we wouldn’t want him getting lost.”

 

His uncle seemed delighted by the idea and was all too quick to push them out of the door and into the hall that led towards the elevator. Lance had been so dizzied by the exchange that whatever pithy witticism he might have held died upon his lips, never realized due to the sheer ridiculousness of the situation at current.

 

His soulmate worked at his uncle’s museum. It was such an odd thing to process that it dizzied him. His gaze drifted towards Shiro, then over his physique. He blushed slightly, for it was really impolite to examine someone within such a fashion, though he had to know if everything aligned properly. In truth, his head was throbbing, as if his cranium were bullying him, slamming an alert that yes, this was his soulmate. His form matched the silhouette of his dreams, though he was not about to jump for joy and start singing. He held no inclination to make a complete idiot of himself. Not if he could help it anyways.

 

“Sorry,” Shiro said suddenly as they waited for the elevator. “About throwing myself at you so suddenly. I just feel… drawn to you.” His gaze was level, peering at the elevator’s doors as he spoke to Lance. Lance held the book closer to his chest, as if it would provide comfort. Nails dug into its hard cover, a shaky laugh escaping him.

 

“Nah, no problem, bro, I’m just glad to have a tour guide. Ha, ha, you know? This place is big… definitely easy to get lost. Do all museums get this big? Or just this one? Most museums I’ve seen they’ve got this marble look and wait whoa, did you say  _ drawn  _ to me?” Lance mentally kicked himself for rambling. In truth, the situation was so terribly awkward. What sort of things did one say to the one they were supposed to spend the rest of their life with? Surely not tour guide jokes. _ Madre de Dios _ he was making a fool of himself.

 

“Yes, drawn to you.” Shiro looked too embarrassed to say more, it was actually a bit endearing. Lance silently wondered what he’d done to earn such an attractive soulmate. His profile was striking, his jawline so sharp that Lance rather felt his visage was wasted upon working in a museum. Shiro’s face was the sort they flashed across neon signs in city squares, advertising for the latest perfume or something. Shirtless, maybe. Lance blushed at the image. Such an awful thought. They’d been together for all of ten minutes and Lance had already wondered what he’d look like shirtless. Awful.

 

Shiro stepped into the elevator once the doors open, Lance hurrying after him. “Drawn to me…” repeated Lance. “Okay, okay, so drawn to me. What kind of drawn are we talking here? Like, hey-they’re-cute-let’s-get-those-digits drawn? Or the profound fate-and-destiny-smoothie-I-am-meant-to-be-with-this-guy drawn?”

 

“The second,” coughed Shiro awkwardly, his gaze still upon the elevator doors. Suddenly being alone together within such a confined space seemed to be a terrible idea and he completely regretted it for Lance could really only focus upon Shiro. He could feel his own face burning in embarrassment. 

 

“Me too,” Lance admitted. “But that might not mean… y’know…”

 

“I just… have this feeling. I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize.”

 

“I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

 

_ Chucha  _ this guy was cute and considerate and perfect. Lance wanted to him himself in the face with his own book. Watch him screw this up somehow. Watch him screw up with the guy he was quite literally destined to be with.

 

“No, sorry. It’s just, uh, ha! Y-you know. A bit of a… shock to meet… you know…?”

 

“I thought it was exciting,” Shiro replied then, judging by his pensive expression, it had been a thought that hadn’t meant to enter the conversation. Lance’s pulse quickened. Was Shiro the romantic type? This was awful, really, for their time together had been so ridiculously brief yet Shiro had managed to win him over so easily with what seemed to be minimal effort, though Shiro looked a bit nervous himself, which showed that there was effort, which made it all the more endearing somehow.

 

“I mean, _ carajo _ , what I mean is… it’s shocking, but also a good feeling. I’ve had… those dreams you know, of your soulmate and all of that junk. I didn’t think I’d meet you, though. They were always so hazy that I figured I’d have better luck looking for a needle in a haystack.” Lance gripped his book a bit tighter at the sudden confession, nervously looking around, though the only thing that could be seen was well, elevator walls and the glass was paneled so thickly that it was difficult to discern what shapes and exhibits they were passing by, all of it completely distorted.

 

“So have I, I think mine were just as vague,” Shiro laughed softly, turning his gaze onto Lance, who stiffened. His expression was so gentle then, traces of nervousness within his manner. Hesitantly, a hand rose to pat Lance’s cheek. “Your face is red,” he remarked. “Have I said too much?”

 

“N-no, you’re fine, t-takes more than that to throw  _ me _ off guard! I’ve got, like, the highest guard. Seriously. Back in training everyone was like w _ hoa, Lance, your guard is so high! You’re always alert! Unflappable. Wow, Lance, you’re so cool! _ ”

 

He was rambling again and he knew it. Though he’d only reddened further at Shiro’s touch, he did not move away from it, finding it oddly comfortable. However, his hand felt cooler than most hands ought to have felt. His gaze drifted towards the hand, only to be greeted with shining metal. His own hand rose, settling against Shiro’s metallic wrist, fingers wrapping around it loosely. A prosthetic. Brows furrowed thoughtfully, looking back towards Shiro, whose fingers twitched, as if wishing to draw back.

 

“I should have touched you with my other hand,” he said then.

 

“No, I don’t mind the prosthetic--”

 

Though what he was about to add was duly interrupted by the opening of the elevator’s doors, people staring at them as they arrived upon their floor. It had been one of the topmost floors. Lance had expected to return to the lobby, then gradually rise as he was shown around, though it seemed Shiro had retained other plans. The pair flushed deeply at the sudden audience they’d garnered. Though they were not doing something inappropriate, Lance knew that the contact they held had been intimate. They quickly moved away and let go of one another, shuffling outside of the elevators in an embarrassed motion.

 

Once out of earshot, Shiro laughed suddenly. It was a clear, beautiful laugh and he covered his mouth, as if to stifle another wave of laughter. “God, that was embarrassing. Good thing they didn’t question us.”

 

“We should have given them a show.”

 

“Lance, no!” Shiro started laughing once more.

 

He nudged the taller male playfully, winking. “Oh come on, I feel like it would be a good show too! Like, people would probably pay to see us!”

 

“I don’t think people would pay to see one man touching another man’s face.”

 

“You never know what people are into nowadays.”

 

“Lance, oh my God, stop!” Shiro couldn’t suppress his laughter, even while cover his mouth. The two paused for a moment, laughing together for a solid minute or so, getting it out of their system.

 

A hand outstretched to grab Shiro’s prosthetic limb, examining it curiously. “Didn’t get to finish talking about it in the elevator. But… I like it.” He curled the metallic fingers in idly, as if seeing how they worked. “It looks cool, too. Do _ you _ not like it?”

 

“I’d still rather have my real arm back, truthfully.”

 

“I’m sure you would, but this one’s cool too. Like, if someone was making a movie, right, and they needed a rad looking guy to play the hero, you’d definitely fit the bill. You’ve even got the mysterious scar and buff bod for it, is what I’m sayin’. I think you’re fine the way you are, Shiro.”

 

Shiro flushed deeply then, a wider smile breaking out. “... thanks, Lance. But… I should show you around. We could have started from the bottom, though all of the old aircrafts and their pieces are here. I’ve always found this part most interesting, though that’s due to my past job, I think.”

 

“Whoa, you were a pilot?!”

 

“Yeah, tell you more later, though. I want to show you around as much as possible.”

 

Shiro playfully held out his arm for Lance to take, as if not expecting him to take it. Though Lance did, linking their arms together, feeling more at ease every minute he spent around Shiro. If he’d known that meeting his soulmate would be so pleasant, then he would have started looking sooner.

* * *

The hour had grown late, and they were having dinner at the museum’s cafe that was at its highest floor. Lance had complained about growing hungry and his feet needing a rest, and Shiro had been more than happy to comply. Lance was digging into a cheeseburger, where Shiro had opted for some sort of small steak. The table they sat at current was near a window, overlooking the city below. In the distance, Lance could see cars hover around buildings, robots conducting traffic, some of the pathways moving so quickly that the hovering vehicles were only streams of light. Below, on the ground, he could make out more, passing vehicles, also moving quickly. A neon blanket had slid its fingers upon every building, into every street corner. The view was breathtaking, really, that Lance had almost found himself lost in it.

 

He’d lived in the city for so long, yet still found himself completely enraptured by it anyways. Realizing he hadn’t spoken to Shiro for a minute, he quickly turned to look at him, though flushed deeply at the look he was receiving from Shiro. It was gentle and earnest, a caring within his eyes. He blinked suddenly, as if snapped from his own reverie by Lance’s acknowledgment.

 

Lance nervously finished his cheeseburger, his pulse quickening. How could such simple looks leave him so flustered? Perhaps a world of superficial things had left such things as genuine emotion and openness all the more valuable. It was odd to meet someone like Shiro, someone who did not seem to carry themselves with the same sort of barbed guard others did. Lance nervously tugged at his collar, deciding to strike up conversation once more.

 

“So, you never told more about your being a former pilot…”

 

Shiro’s lids fluttered then, a distressed look suddenly warping his countenance that Lance felt horrible for asking, though whatever discomfort he held, he quickly covered it back up with a smile. “Yeah, I was. For the military. That was a few years ago, though…”

 

Lance nodded, “how’d you… y’know… your arm…”

 

“A mission gone wrong,” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “Same with the scar.”

 

“If it’s a sensitive topic, you don’t have to go into it. I mean, I’m prying.”

 

Shiro reached his hand across the table, shaking his head softly. “No, if we really are fated to be together, I want to be open with you.”

 

Lance’s stomach somersaulted,  his heart beat faster in his chest, nervously taking Shiro’s hand with one of his own. Shiro had extended the human hand. Hesitantly, he wound their fingers together, and Lance didn’t stop him. There was something relaxing about Shiro, something mesmerizing about him, something that left him drawn to him. A part of him had never truly believed that soulmate rhetoric. A part of him had thought it to be some tale to keep lonely people happy. Of course, the Dreams, the Connection to a soulmate were still existent, yet some people still died without having ever met their soulmate. It was why some people married other people even if they weren’t soulmates, the idea of dying alone wasn’t appealing to them. Not that Lance could blame them. Even  _ he _ was half-tempted to go that route if he hit his thirties without having met his soulmate. Except, Shiro had shown up in his life. Except, Shiro had made such an idea seem completely horrid.

 

“R-right. Makes sense. I just don’t wanna… make you uncomfortable,” Lance gave a tight smile. He didn’t want to make Shiro uncomfortable because he was seriously starting to care about the guy. He could not forget the briefly pained expression that crossed his features and he could even feel Shiro’s hand tremble a bit, as if fighting back a tide of unpleasant memories. Lance squeezed his hand reassuringly, oceanic irides meeting Shiro’s gaze. He evened out his own smile, made it less nervous. 

 

“You’re fine, Lance.”

 

“I’m still worried.”

 

Shiro’s gaze softened. “I appreciate it.”

 

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. Another smile and gentle look from you and I seriously think I’m gonna die. This soulmate stuff is overwhelming.”

 

“Fine, fine. I like watching you blush though.”

 

“Oh come on, that’s cruel!”

 

Shiro only laughed, directing his line of sight towards the window before frowning slightly. “It’s getting late, you should be heading home.”

 

“You’re right.”

 

Lance sighed, rising from his seat with Shiro, a robot attendant waved over to clean after their table. They moved towards the elevator, descending back towards the lobby with its intricate fountain. Shiro walked him towards the door, before pausing once they made it outside.

 

The nightlife bustled still, people hurried walking past on cellphones, neon signs blinking and large billboards playing their commercials. The museum was illuminated spectacularly in its colorful glory. Lance turned to gaze upon Shiro, who seemed to reflect a good portion of it all, silver bangs streaked with some of the fluorescent lights. Somehow, seeing him bathed in color made Lance smile. It was a good look for him, who had really only worn monochromatic hues. 

 

Shiro grabbed Lance’s wrist suddenly, tapping the wristband that coiled around it, a holographic screen rising. Before Lance knew it, Shiro was inputting his contact information. Once satisfied, he tapped the silver band, the screen disappearing.

 

“Just had to do that,” he explained. “Lance,” he hesitated. “Do you mind if I walk you home…?”

 

Lance couldn’t help but snort. Shiro was really too considerate for his own good, and Lance loved it. “Yeah, of course you can.”

 

He looked relieved at the acceptance of his request and suddenly grabbed Lance’s waist, pulling him against him. “One last thing, sorry,” he gave a lopsided smile. “Do you mind if I…?” Shiro leaned his face in closer to Lance’s, who was flushed once more.

 

He slid his hands up and onto Shiro’s shoulders, before nodding, not daring to speak for fear of making a ridiculous noise of embarrassment or saying something with his terrible humor that might ruin the mood. When Shiro kissed him, it was slow and sweet, lips melding against his as one arm wrapped completely around his waist, the other rising towards his upper back as if cradling him completely. Shiro had needed to bend down a bit to kiss Lance, though he didn’t mind and Lance was even thankful that Shiro was bigger than him, for it felt almost as if Shiro was completely around him. The taller male even smelled pleasant. He couldn’t help but feel bothered when the kiss ended, both of them catching their breath.

 

Shiro let go of him, slowly and reluctantly. “We should get going before it gets even later.”

 

“Yeah. Hate to be around at night with the weird people prowling.” Lance lifted his hands and stiffened his fingers as if to make claws, as if to emphasize the word “weird.”

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” blinked Shiro. “You’re weird, too.”

 

“H-hey!”

 

Before he knew it, Shiro erupted into another fit of laughter. Lance exhaled with a roll of his eyes, unable to fight the wide smile that formed across his lips.

  
When he went to take one of Shiro’s hands, he held the prosthetic one and squeezed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I don't know if I'm going to make a second part of this??? Because there's more I can do but.... iDK depends on the reception this gets, I guess.


End file.
